Things That Howl In The Night
by SupernaturalPrincess
Summary: Another demon hunt for the boys, another vision for Sam, and another thing for the Winchester brothers to get rid of.
1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester pulled open the trunk to his older brother's Impala as Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition and headed over to help Sam.

"Alright Sammy, we get one shot with this thing or it'll just slip through our hands. We've got to catch it by surprise and we need something that packs one hell of a punch," he said, tossing a bag of smaller weapons aside.

"I know. I'm thinking lethal tazers," Sam replied, pulling out two weapons that looks almost like toy guns; almost.

For a moment Dean was hesitant, remembering his last encounter with one of those guns. It had ended him on a death bed and then in the hands of a Reaper. Not something he wanted to relive. Sam read the look on his brother's face and rolled his eyes despite his own hesitance. He didn't ever want to come that close to losing Dean again, but this demon had to be killed, no matter what it took. It would get them one step closer to their dad and one step closer to whatever thing it was that killed their mom and Jessica.

"Take it. You said it yourself, we only get one shot and we can't let it get away."

Dean grabbed the gun from his baby brother and stalked off toward the house. Sam had said the magic words. "Let it get away." Dean Winchester would never let one of those damned things get away.

"Let's go. Time's tickin' man," he said, sneaking into the door.

The brothers walked into the abandoned house and continued on to the kitchen. Whatever this thing was, it had an insatiable appetite, and when it couldn't get its hands on human flesh it went for the meat in the freezer. As they headed down the hallway Dean knew this wasn't going to work. One of them would have to attack, and the other would have to serve as a distraction. Oddly reminded of their experience with the Wendigos, Dean let his gun slide to the floor and sped off towards the kitchen.

"Dammit Dean!" Sam shout-whispered.

He knew that Dean was going on one of his whims. Never mind that his whims usually worked, they almost always got him severely hurt in the process. Heaving a sigh he decided to follow his brother's scheme, not that he had much of a choice.

In the kitchen Dean had managed to slip in unnoticed and we was watching the demon (tall, scaly, dark green…extraordinarily reptilian like) devour a pound of raw hamburger like there was no tomorrow. It stopped for a moment and let out a loud belch. The stench of it reached Dean and he moved a hand to cover his nose.

"Aw man," he whispered into his sleeve.

The demon heard it. Well, it was now or never. Now being the preferable choice.

"Hey, you gonna eat that all? 'Cuz I was really thinking about a barbeque later and well, I'll kind of need it," he said, hoping that Sam was close behind.

The demon spun around and sniffed the air in front of it. It had found a new target, a better target, a live target. The scaly thing lunged toward Dean and Dean stepped out of the way, but not soon enough. The demon gripped one clawed hand around its victim's shoulder. Dean let out a yelp of pain and fell backwards in shock. He had broken one of the top 5 rules of hunting. Don't get caught off guard. Within seconds Dean was on the floor and the reptile demon was deciding which limb to tear off first, having successfully pinned said Winchester to the ground.

"Sam!" Dean managed to choke out before the disgusting breath of the demon stole the air from his lungs. Where had his little brother run off to?

Sam had been lying low, waiting for his cue. Then, without warning, his head started pounding with pain and he was taken somewhere else. Taken to another place and time. There was a girl; she couldn't have been more than 7 years old. She had black hair pulled into curly pigtails and was hugging her teddy bear tight, pale blue eyes wide with fear.

"N-no please. G-good doggy, b-big doggy, s-sit doggy. Nooooo!" the little girl screamed and a huge, furry wolf-like creature pounced on the girl. One swift swipe at her neck and the girl was on the floor motionless, lifeless.

Sam snapped back to the dark, dusty house around him and tried to process what had happened in his most recent vision. However, as he concentrated on the twisted features and abnormality of the wolf-like creature and tried to match it with something in his dad's journal, a fearing yell filled his ears.

"Sam! Dammit, get in here!" Dean shouted.

Sam pushed himself up and sprinted into the kitchen, tazer at the ready. He arrived just as the reptile demon swiped a claw across Dean's face and Sam watched in horror as his brother's body went limp and his green eyes slid shut.

"Dean!" he shouted, and the demon's attention was momentarily snapped from its fresh meal. It trained its black eyes on Sam and looked at him with careful deliberation.

Sam aimed the tazer at the demon and poised his finger on the trigger, ready to shock this thing to the depths of Davey Jones' locker. However, something made him stop just a muscle twitch away from zapping it. It was the realization that the demon wouldn't be the only thing that he zapped. Reptile-dude was on Dean and that would mean major electrocution for his brother as well.

"Come on….you don't want him, look at him, he's weak," Sam said, figuring he could concern himself with the fact that he was trying to communicate with a demon later. All he knew was that he had to get that thing away from Dean and fast.

He back away, and to his surprise, the demon followed. As soon as the demon was a good 10 feet away from Dean, Sam pulled the trigger and watched the reptile demon shake with electricity before falling to the floor with a final twitch that gave way to lifelessness. Sam took only a moment of stillness before rushing over to Dean. He took the wrist of his elder and let out a breath of relief when the pulse he felt was sure and strong. He was only unconscious. Pulling Dean up and supporting his weight, Sam headed back down the hall and out the door. He carefully put Dean in the passenger seat and fished the keys out of his pocket. As the car zoomed off down the road, Sam's thoughts turned to his vision as he tried to make a little more sense of it.


	2. Chapter 2

About an hour later Sam looked over and saw Dean stirring back to life. Thank goodness,he had been about ready to start worrying.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, man."

Dean's hand went to the large scratch on his left cheek. He looked in the rearview mirror and turned back to his brother and unpleasant look on his face.

"Have we I.D.ed that thing yet?" he asked, grabbing the first aid kit out of the glove box.

"No, why?" Sam replied.

"Because if this thing gets infected and I start growing scales and a forked tongue, I'm eating you first. What took you so long back there anyways? Did you not get the whole 'me run and be a diversion' thing?"

Dean looked over the newly treated scratch and waited for an answer. When it didn't come, it somehow managed to speak louder than words. There were two things Sam liked to keep from Dean. One was anything that may bring up conflict over Dad, and the other was his visions. As nonchalant as Dean liked to be, he knew Sam, and he knew when something was wrong. Like now, something was definitely wrong.

"What happened?"

"What? Nothing," Sam said, focusing on the road.

"Don't give me that crap Sammy, what's going on that you're not telling me? Did you hear from Dad?"

"No," Sam said, having a terrible time choosing his words. Eventually Dean was going to get it out of him, and while it wasn't anything huge, he wasn't exactly prepared for the slew of questions that he wouldn't be able to answer, but that were sure to come.

"Then what?"

The sigh from Sam was anything but discreet. He should have known. If Dean was one thing in this world, he was stubborn. He could easily tell from that simple statement that his older brother was not giving up any time soon. It hadn't even been the words he spoke that let Sam know, it had been the way he said it.

"I had a vision halfway through the hunt," he said with an air of pure surrender. Dean had cracked the pretenses, as he always managed to do.

"Alright, no big deal. What happened in it?"

"I'm not sure Dean, that's why I didn't want to tell you," Sam said, regretting his earlier surrender.

"What? You didn't really see anything or you only heard noises?" Dean asked, wanting desperately to get to the bottom of this. After all, there was almost always a reason Sam had his visions.

"No, I saw something."

"Well, what was it?" Dean was getting tired of this red tape crap. Sam needed to fess up. This could be a hunting job. Something towards finding Dad.

"I told you, I don't really know. Some wolf-like thing only more twisted and distorted from what I saw," Sam said, trying desperately to make the image of the beast show up in his mind's eye again.

"What? Like a werewolf?" Dean asked, skeptical. If it was a werewolf then Sam was putting way too much worry into something not that difficult.

Werewolves were easy enough to handle. For once all the folklore behind them was true. A silver bullet to the heart and they were done for.

"No, werewolves walk on two legs if they can help it, and they have at least a little humanity to them. This thing was on all fours and there wasn't a shred of anything human about it. It was going after this little girl. It killed her right on the spot, Dean. This is something new, something we haven't dealt with before," Sam explained as best he could.

"Pull over then, right up here, I'm driving," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes before shaking his head. He swore that someday his brother and that car were going to get married.However, that wasn't going to stop Sam from fighting.He doubted Dean was in any shape to drive.

"Dean, chill. I do know how to drive, and I think you should just rest. That demon swiped you pretty hard," he said, mother henning without really realizing it.

"I'm fine and I'm serious. You usually get more than one vision and I don't want you driving my car when you get the next one," Dean said, staring his baby brother down.

His precious car had been too close to the impound too many times for him to take any chances with it. Sam gave in, pulled over, and the two of them switched sides.

Two hours later Dean's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed it out with one hand and tossed it onto a half-sleeping Sam. The younger Winchester woke with a start and picked up the cell phone with a puzzled look on his face.

"Message from Dad. Check it, it's probably coordinates," Dean explained, slowing the car down in case he needed to turn them around.

Sam flipped open the phone and clicked into the message. Sure enough there were a set of numbers and letters on the screen. "Bingo. We've got 35.98 N and 83.97 W."

"Grab the map out of the glove box and figure out where we're headed. I'll pull up over here," Dean replied, pulling the Impala into a clearing and turning the engine off.

The map was spread out on the hood of the car and Dean was off trying to get a hold of their dad when he heard Sam let out a gasp that he had come to identify with pain. He would never admit it out loud, but that noise made him nervous. He didn't ever want to lose Sam. Sam was basically all Dean had, and it was his self-appointed responsibility to take care of his baby brother. It was a responsibility that he took very seriously. Shoving his phone in his pocket he rushed back over to Sam and found him on the ground next to the Impala, clutching his head.

"Sammy, are you okay man?" Dean's voice betrayed his oh-so-masculine ways as it was laced with worry. He reached out and took his brother's arm, but Sam stopped him, holding out a hand.

"Yeah….vision," was all he managed before he was taken once more to another place and time.

This time Sam had a more panoramic view of the room. There were ponies everywhere and then there was the little girl again, playing tea party with her teddy bearand a select few ponies. Suddenly there was a tall shadow in the doorway.

"JanJan?" the little girl asked questionably.

A small movement and incomprehensible whispering came from the shadow and then the wolf-thing entered. The little girl stumbled out of her chair and backed up against the wall. Once the vision had reached the same place that the last one had started at, Sam found himself back in the middle of nowhere on the ground beside the car, Dean hovering over him with worry creasing his face. He gave his older brother a short smile and Dean masked his worry quickly.

"Anything new, anything vital this time?" he asked, switching to strictly business at the snap of a finger.

"Same girl, new shadow. It was medium height, maybe human," Sam said, pausing to let the images come back to him once more, "The shadow seemed like it said something- I didn't make it out- and then the wolf-thing came back."

Dean considered his brother's comment for a minute. If this was the thing their dad was sending them after, they had to find out as much about it as possible. "So you think maybe something's controlling it?"

Sam shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure what he was sure of right now. However, it wasn't a time to rule out possibilities. "Maybe, I mean it's possible."

"Okay, so we find out what this thing is and how it's being controlled, we get control of it ourselves, and we tell Fido to play nice." Dean walked back over to the map and started tracing out the coordinates. They knew next to nothing about this case, sothey needed to get started as soon as possible.

"Looks like we're taking a trip to hick town," Dean smiled towards Sam and the younger Winchester walked over with a curious look on his face.

"Where're we going?"

"Knoxville, Tennessee," Dean said, folding up the map and climbing back into the driver's seat, "Let's get going. I figure we might need to stop on the way and pick ourselves up a couple ten-gallon hats."

Sam laughed and got into the passenger seat, putting the map back in the glove box after having circled Knoxville in red marker. Then the boys drove off, "All Right Now" by Free floating in the air behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

Four days and three cheap motels later the Winchester boys finally arrived at Knoxville. It was Sam's turn to drive and Dean was sleeping in the passenger seat, so Sam pulled up at a gas station to fill the tank and grab a local newspaper. He fell back into the driver's seat with a dull 'thunk' as he read the headline in the paper and set a fresh cup of coffee in the cup holder for Dean when he woke up. In bold print on the front page of the paper were the words "Woman killed in freak animal accident; family grieves". Skimming through the article, Sam stopped when his eyes reached a picture.

There was the family of the deceased, before the woman had died. A father, tall and strong looking, a twitch of a smile playing at his features, dark hair, eyes twinkling with nothing other than love, the woman (the mother Sam assumed) standing next to him, long blonde hair flowing, soft features shown only in a side-profile as she kissed her husband on the cheek, then there were two children; a boy and a girl. The boy looked older than the girl, and the caption underneath the picture said that he was 13 years old. He had blonde hair like his mother and green eyes, a smile brightening his face as he looked at his dad with that superhero adoration. The little girl was what had really made Sam stop, though. It was the girl from his vision. The same dark, long hair braided into pigtails. Still, the difference was drastic. In his vision this girl had looked terrified and pale. In the picture she looked happy and carefree, her teddy bear present in her arms and her blue eyes sparkling with energy, not paled with fear. The caption said that this little girl was 8 years old. Well, they were on the right track. Whenever John Winchester's coordinates matched up withSam's visions, there was no denying there had to be a connection.

Sam was about to wake Dean up when he saw his older brother rolling around as much as the passenger seat of the Impala would allow and changed his mind, deciding to let the smell of coffee wake him up. In the meantime, Sam read the article over more thoroughly.

"Get this. This family has had two deaths already, and they've both been passed off as animal attacks," Sam said, typing a series of search words into his laptop.

Dean walked out of the hotel bathroom with one towel wrapped securely around his waist and another in his right hand, drying his hair. "Either they've got some seriously vicious animals around here or the government is once more trying to explain the unexplainable."

Dean's naturally sarcastic nature didn't fade one bit as he spoke about the government. The older Winchester grabbed a pile of autopsy pictures that his baby brother had managed to hack his way into. The people in the pictures, or rather remains of what used to be people, were torn, mauled, and disfigured beyond anything an animal could do. They weren't even recognizable. Whatever had happened to this girl, it was their area of expertise, not the science department of Tennessee's. The police didn't know what was really going on here. Not that they ever did. They just always seemed to manage to find a way to explain it, when it obviously wasn't that easy. Dean supposed it was easier for them to make it out as something they could understand, to enable them to place the blame on something tangible, rather than leave it unsolved, even if they still knew, in the back of their minds, that it would always be unsolved to them. But not to the Winchester brothers. Finding out what was really going on was what they did, and it looked as though they were going to have to do it once again. Dean pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt with a dark red collared shirt over it and his signature leather jacket.

"Anything on what this could be?" He asked.

Sam shook his head quickly before biting on his thumb and typing in a few new search words. This damned thing was proving harder to find than the youngest Winchester had expected. He clicked on a link and shrugged in his brother's direction before Dean could ask him again.

"I'm not sure yet. There's plenty of demonic animal lore, but so far nothing describes the….deformation of the wolf-like thing I saw."

"When was the last death in the family? Before the most recent one, I mean," Dean said, a hunch creeping into the back of his hunting mind. John Winchester had taught his eldest son well. He could grasp a hint of a clue long before someone else.

"2 months ago," Sam said, scrolling down farther in the hospital files he had managed to hack into after a good hour and a half.

"What about the first one?" Dean repeated his question.

"5 months ago," Sam said, now looking at his brother and realizing that the small glow behind Dean's eyes meant they may just be getting somewhere with this, "Why?"

Dean shrugged and put his watch on his right arm. He wasn't entirely surewhat he was cooking up in his mind, but he knew it was an instinct, and instincts were major for hunters. You followed them, it was just common sense. Dean knew that. Plus, he now seemed to have Sammy's interest.

"I'm just thinking…maybe it's not a demon. See if you can find anything on local hauntings, or rituals to bring an animal back in spirit…you know, summoning the spirit?"

It took Dean a moment, but right before Sam started typing in new search words the older brother spoke up again. "And then do me a favor and check past obituaries around 5 or 6 months ago. Look for a family dog."

Sam looked up from his computer once more with curiosity in his eyes and held Dean's gaze for a moment before speaking up himself. "What are you getting at, Dean?"

"Maybe something bad happened to this thing. Maybe it used to be just a dog, but it died. Then, you know some of those whack families that are way over attached to their pets and severely need therapy, maybe this family is one of them and went somewhere to contact the spirit and when they did it went way off the beaten path and the family accidentally brought their puppy pal back to life," Dean was about to continue when Sam finished for him.

"And now the dog wants revenge," he paused for a moment, realizing how absurd that sounded, "Can dogs even want revenge?"

"Hell yeah. A vicious spirit of anything can latch onto a family until they're all dead if that's what it wants."

Sam's eyebrows raised and he typed in a brand new string of search words originating from Dean's new thought while Dean himself poured them both a cup of coffee and picked up their dad's journal on the way back to where Sam sat. He gave Sam his cup of coffee and took a drink of his own. Untying John's journal, Dean flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He stopped at one particularly yellowed page with a couple drawings, an article from a past newspaper and a whole lot of small, cramped handwriting.

"Looks like Dad has already dealt with this sort of thing. It's one of his more vague entries, but listen to this: July, 2004, Tennessee. Angry spirit of horse after family. Local psychic may be cause," Dean read aloud, "It stops there, so he must have either put a lid on it or was forced to move on to bigger things. I'm going to go downtown and check out the local psychics, call me if you find anything."

Dean walked out the door and headed down the road before flipping his cell phone open. He punched in a series of numbers that happened to belong to his father's cell phone and waited for the voicemail to pick up. He hadn't expected John Winchester to actually answer, though it would have been nice. Once his father's voice gave way to the beep Dean started talking.

"Dad, this is Dean. We got your coordinates, but I've got to say this is something new. Animal spirits? What's with that? I mean, we could be working on something much bigger, leading to the thign that killed mom, and you've got us playing ghostbusters? Anyways, just letting you know. Bye."

Back at the hotel Sam was busy clicking, reading, hacking, and cross-referencing. He hadn't found much for angry animal spirit stories, but it turned out that Dean had been right, the family that seemed to be targeted did have a pet that died 5 and ½ months ago. Not only that, it had been a husky and had been caught in farm machinery. He had to give it to his big brother. When Dean got a hunch he knew what he was doing. Now they had to figure out what made the thing come back for revenge. It had been lying low, or whatever animals brought back from the dead did, for 2 months, so why now? What was so special that it could make the vengeful spirit come back? That was the question that Sam was falling short on answers with. He finished off his cup of coffee and grabbed his cell phone off the bedside table. Sam knew that as soon as he knew something Dean would want to know it. Not to mention Sam was hoping Dean would have an explanation to the spread-out killings. After dialing Dean's number Sam sat back down at the computer to keep searching.

Dean was at the 5th psychic building he had found so far when his cell phone rang. He picked up and answered.

"About time. Find anything?"

"A little bit. The family did have a dog. A husky, died 5 and ½ months ago after it got caught in farm equipment," Sam took a moment to look up a couple more things, "There's not much about animals being brought back from the dead, but from what I can gather you need someone to keep control of it once it's back or it won't be able to distinguish between friend and foe, it'll just kill anyone."

Dean took a moment to process the information and move outside. This wasn't exactly a conversation he thought the whole lobby at the psychic building needed to hear. "So there's no emotional attachment between the dog and the family?"

"Nothing other than it used to be theirs, and maybe someone in the family is controlling it, but I'd put more money on a psychic with much free time on his hands. How's that going anyway?" Sam asked.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Psychics seemed to be everywhere, which was weird for a hick town, but not a single one of them specialized in the summoning of animal spirits.

"Well, from three different psychics I've found out that I'm going to have good luck in love, not that that's news to me, and one other told me that I needed a serious aura cleansing, but not a single animal spirit summoning relating to the family," Dean said, "Still, there's an insane amount of psychics around here. Apparently the good people of Knoxville have some bad uncertainty issues."

"Keep trying, oh sex god, I'm doing my best over here. I just need some more time," Sam said before both brothers bade the other goodbye and hung up their phones.

Dean stashed his cell in his pocket and went back into the latest psychic building. There had to be about 25 people in the lobby, and according to the sign hanging over a desk there were 3 psychics in right now. Either there were a lot of gifted people in this town or a lot of phonies faking it to make a buck. Dean could only hope for the former. Either way he had to keep going until he found something, any trace of a connection to the family. After about 15 more minutes of waiting, Dean's number was called (yeah, a psychic building with a number system) and he got up, following a man into a darker room with a more mystic atmosphere. The man sat down in a chair on one side of a small round table and gestured for Dean to sit down at the other. He obliged and took a seat. He hoped this would be the lucky one because if one more psychic told him he needed an aura cleansing he was going to give up.


	4. Chapter 4

"Good afternoon, I'm Carl, what can I do for you today? A palm reading, perhaps?" the man said, reaching out his hand.

Dean quickly withdrew his own hands and shook his head. When he had been told he was going to have good luck in love, this hadn't been what he had in mind. Hot chicks, yes, but a guy? No way. Especially not a guy whose name was Carl and made a living as a psychic. Really, what kind of name was Carl for a psychic? Dean had always imagined something like Madam Zipinsky or Babaloo the amazing. At the very least something more mystical than Carl.

"No, I'm good in the palm department," Dean said resolutely, a plan still forming in his mind, "Actually I was wondering if you could do animal spirit connections? See, I lost this parakeet and, well, my girlfriend really misses him. I figured I'd do a little background check and search around, you know; see if there was anyone good. Normally I wouldn't, I'm not a big believer in this stiff, but she is and I don't like seeing her mope around." Bingo. Sob stories never failed.

Carl got a solemn expression and nodded knowingly, which almost made Dean loseit and laugh out loud. "Yes, I get many couples, even families, that long to reconnect with a lost pet or loved one. If you bring your girlfriend in and an object or picture that was very close to your parakeet I can contact him."

Now Dean was getting somewhere. "That sounds good. If you don't mind me asking, could I have a few examples of families you have helped or animals you've contacted? I wouldn't ask, but you know how many imposters there are these days."

Carl seemed to take serious consideration on it but finally nodded. "I suppose I can five you a few names so that you don't doubt my abilities, though I usually like to keep a client-psychic confidentiality. About 8 years ago I contacted a deceased rabbit spirit for the Jacobs, a couple of years ago there was a kitten spirit I gained contact with for the Johnson's, and most recently was about 5 months ago, maybe 6, it was the McLandon's and it was a husky. I remember that very well. The boy was a little jumpy about it, but the rest of the family was torn to pieces over the death. I assume he wasn't much of a believer either. That poor family, ever since the dog died there's been a line of deaths. To go through so much, it must be devastating."

Dean nodded and managed to keep a straight face despite his recent victory in the information department. "Yeah, sad isn't it? Well, looks like you're the real deal."

Carl pulled out a small square of cardstock and handed it to Dean. "There's my card. You and your girl can call me and we'll set up a time, okay?"

"Sure thing," Dean said, taking the card and putting it in his jacket. A psychic with a card? Dean would try to let it go.

He left the building and headed back to the hotel. Opening the door, he found Sam knee-deep in a pile of papers, books, and printouts. It looked as though his baby brother had been doing some serious research while he was gone. Maybe he had good news too.

"How'd the psychic hunt go?" Sam asked, grateful for an escape from his books.

Dean pulled the card out of his jacket and tossed it to his brother. Helaughed at the expression on Sam's face. "Yeah, Carl, I know. How messed up is that?"

"Pretty messed up," Sam mused along with his brother, leaning back to bask in his brother's genius. This was why Dean was his hero.

"Anyway, he's our guy. Totally whacko, wanted to give me a palm reading. Right, like I'd have let that guy touch my hand. Still, he contacted the spirit of the husky for the McLandon's a good 5 or 6 months ago. We're on the right track."

Sam nodded and dug through one of the piles of papers, tossing a book to the side and grabbing a single sheet, turning it right side up and scanning it until he found what he was looking for.

"According to what I've been able to find, it takes some serious dark magic to keep an animal spirit under control once it's back from the dead."

Dean took the paper from his brother and read it over himself, sighing. Just when you think you're going to get a break, maybe have a cookie or a "good job boys" thrown your way for all that you've found out, you have to get right back on track and straight to business. Don't get him wrong, Dean lived for this stuff, and he wanted to keep Sam safe as well as find his dad more than his life, but he just needed a break sometimes.

"Looks like we need to visit the family," he said, nodding towards the room's door, "Let's go."

They pulled up at the address Sam had found and Dean shut off the ignition, pulling out a couple fake I.D.s.

"What're we today?" Sam asked, and Dean threw his little brother and I.D. and put the other one in his leather jacket. Sam looked it over and smirked. "State police? How many times have we done that?"

Dean just shrugged and got out of the Impala, looking at the quaint little farmhouse next to all the farm-y things. Well, it fit with the story of the dog's death. Dean headed toward the house and replied to Sam over his shoulder. "Well, it works, so let's go."

The boys reached the door and Dean leaned forward to knock. They could hear hurried footsteps from inside and a few seconds later someone answered the door. Sam recognized him immediately as the father from the picture in the paper. The sound of other voices filtered through the door, indicating that the house wasn't entirely empty. The boys knew it was a celebration of life. The man looked at the boys from behind watery eyes and a look of confusion clouded his features. He obviously didn't recognize them, and at a time like this in your life, who needs unwanted guests?

"May I help you?" he asked wearily. Mr. McLandon had just lost his wife, and he didn't want to deal with anything else, he didn't think he could deal with anything else. Getting through it moment by moment, knowing what he had done,was hard enough.

Dean stepped up as he always did. "Yes, Mr. McLandon?" he waited for a nod before continuing as soon as it came, "I know this must be a rough time for you, and if we didn't have to we wouldn't, but we're with the state police and we've been given this case to investigate."

The puzzled look on the man's face did not disappear. If it did anything, it became more intense. "What's there to investigate? My wife was killed by a wild animal."

Dean sighed, a part of him wanting to stop at the anguish in the man's voice. It was the vulnerability in Mr. McLandon's eyes, voice, in his entire body and soul that reminded Dean why he kept his emotional walls up. It reminded him of why he played the good little soldier; taking orders, lying, and ignoring all the horrible looks he got. It was better to keep it business. He had two weaknesses, Sam and his father, and that was plenty enough for him. They were hard enough to handle as it was. Attachment was not an option. Still, sometimes those looks hit him home, and sometimes he just wanted to stop. Stop lying, stop hunting, and stop searching. Just stop and be there with Sam, all because of a look.

"That's what's being said, but there has been evidence discovered giving us reason to believe there could have been foul play."

The man waited a moment, clearly not processing the information properly (who would be able to?) before finally nodding and allowing them to come in. Dean let out a silent breath of relief and looked at Sam, letting him know without words that it was his turn to take the floor. Same gave him a mini-nod and stepped forward.

"Well, we know the basics," he started slowly, "Where your wife was found, her...condition, but was there anyone with her or nearby at the time of her death?" he finished, placing his words carefully.

The questioning was always the hardest part. Death was a touchy a subject as any, but the kind of deaths they had to pose questions for were usually ones that no one cared to relive. The pain that some people had coming in waves off of them shook Sam to his core, but he knew as well as Dean that they needed the information. They had to stop it from happening again, and they could only do that with details.

Mr. McLandon looked at the boys with renewed curiosity and then shook his head. "No, my son found her, he's just 13 you know," he stated, sounding very much like his son should not have had to bear the burden of having to find his mother. Both brothers silently agreed, knowing full well he shouldn't have had to be the one to find her, "and he said he saw something backing away; it must have been the animal."

"Daddy?" a small voice piped up around the corner and Sam's head whipped around in recollection.

"Come here Delilah," Mr. McLandon stated.

The little girl from Sam's vision ran out from behind a large flower fase and jumped into her father's arms. Dean saw the look Sam had on his face and so the elder Winchester elbowed the younger one in the ribs, which swiftly turned Sam's attention.

"That her?" Dean asked, nodding slightly toward Delilah and the father that was too preoccupied with his daughter to notice the private whispering conversation going on between the two "officers".

Sam simply nodded in response and looked back at the little girl, Delilah, as she spoke up again.

"Who're they?" she asked, teddy bear in tow as usual.

"These are policemen. They're nice; they want to know about mommy, will you go get your brother?" he said gently.

Delilah's eyes widened as she looked Sam and Dean over. Then she gave her teddy bear another squeeze and looked at her dad again. Sam cast a sideways glance at his brother before Delilah spoke up again. As hardheaded an emotionally inaccessible his brother was 99.9 of the time, kids always had a way of softening him.

"Daddy, do they know when mommy's gonna wake up again?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably at the innocence and hope behind her question. It was enough to put a hole in his walls. It was the same innocence Sam had held all those years ago, the innocence he wished his baby brother could still have today.

"Honey, I already told you….just go get Janus," the father replied, his voice cracking slightly.

Delilah sighed and nodded. Her new hope for a fresh happiness had been shot down, so now it was back to doing what her daddy told her to keep him happy. If there was one thing she hated, it was seeing her dad as sad as he had been lately. So she tugged on a curly black pigtail, trailed her teddy bear behind her and went up the stairs to get her big brother.

Delilah reached Janus' door and knocked four times in the pattern he had told her to use for the past 6 months. The voice that came from inside was distracted, but audible and very distinctly Janus at work. "Come in," was all it said.

Delilah opened the door, slipped in, and shut it behind her. "Stop reading those books JanJan, the pictures are weird and scary," she sighed pleadingly.

Janus shut the book and shoved it aside. "Oh hush, it's none of your business what I read. What's up Dee?" he asked.

"There are some cops downstairs talking about mommy and daddy told me to come get you."

Delilah chose her words as carefully as a young girl could because she knew how touchy Janus was about being questioned. Her big brother sighed and pushed away from his desk, getting up and nodding. "Alright, thanks sis."

The two walked out of his room hand in hand and Janus only cast a single backwards glance at his pile of books. He had been in the middle of something, so this damned questioning had better not take long.

Back in the living room Sam and Dean had been scrounging for as much information as they could get, but they weren't getting far. Sam opened his mouth to ask another question when Delilah reappeared at her father's side with an older boy that Sam also recognized from the picture in the paper. This had to be Janus.

"You wanted me dad?" he asked quietly. His father had been so touchy lately; it was as though he was blaming Janus for his mother's death.

Mr. McLandon nodded and gestured toward Sam and Dean. "These men are with the state police and I thought you could tell them more than I could, considering…" he trailed off again, looking down. His children didn't need to see his moment of weakness.

Janus nodded and patted his father on the shoulder half-heartedly. Dean shifted again and Sam could see a flicker of recognition in his brother's eyes. Then Janus turned to face them and took a breath, ready to recite what he had said a thousand times before.

"I found her in the backyard. Dad was out for groceries with Dee, and I was playing baseball with some friends in the yard a few houses down. I heard a noise, and I rushed home. Someone was backing away, and that's when I saw her. Just there by her garden, but she didn't look like my mom anymore…she was really messed up. There was….it was just bad, alright?" he stopped, and put on the grievingson face. He preferred to grieve in private, so he decided to excuse himself. "If that's all, I've got stuff to do."

Dean nodded. "That's all, we'd better go anyway," he replied, standing up and heading for the door, but stopping to turn around and pull a card out of his pocket, "Here, that's my cell number for when I'm not on call, if you feel like there's anything you need to tell me, call."

Janus slunk away and went back to his room. Police were pigs. A plan deviously made its way into the back of his mind and he went back to his books.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulled away from the house and Sam let out a sigh. "So, the point of that was?"

Dean returned his brother's sigh with an even heavier one of his own. "I'm not sure, but there's something that kid just isn't telling us."

Sam wasn't sure what he thought at the moment so he just nodded. Seeing Delilah in person had sort of fazed him. Plus, he hadn't exactly gotten an accurate vibe of anything from the Janus kid. All this lead to him questioning his brother, which he never ever did. Yeah, right.

"Like what?" he asked incredulously.

Dean turned on his brother and pinned him with a glare that meant only one thing. "I don't know for sure, Sam, I'm not a freaking mind reader, there was just something there," he snapped, proving Sam's theory.

Dean was following a hunch. Even though Sam had learned to trust his older brother's hunches, he found this particular one a little farfetched. The kid was 13; he had found his mother dead. What could he possibly have to not tell?

"Dean, that's a little…out there," Sam voiced his thoughts, preparing himself for the bull headed comment he was sure would come.

"Look, I know what I'm talking about here. Just…go with me for once, will you Joe College? So I don't have a degree, I'm pretty sure they don't give PHD.s in hunting" Dean's voice was cold and his eyes were transfixed on the road in such a way that you would think he was sure there was something out there waiting to jump in front of the car.

"Okay, okay," Sam relented. When Dean started calling him Joe College, things were going south, and the youngest Winchester knew he was starting himself on a losing battle.

"We'll just…go back tomorrow," Dean resolved, pulling into the parking lot of the cheap motel they were staying at.

The sun rose and shone through the window of the brothers' motel room. The light caused Sam to wake up, much against his will, but all it did to Dean was force him to roll over and continue snoring softly. Sam rolled his eyes and started up the coffee machine before going to take a shower. It was always easier to let the smell of coffee wake his brother than to do it himself and suffer the wrath of early morning Dean. Sure enough, when Sam came out of the bathroom clean and dressed Dean was up and had a steaming cup in his hands. He also had a look on his face that conveyed a whole lot of different emotions. One of them was pissed, something Sam had witnessed several times. Another that he could make out was pure, unmasked sorrow. That was not something he was used to seeing. In fact, it was something he had only seen a few times in his entire life, and even then the moments of it had been short-lived because his brother was too hard-headed to admit he was feeling anything other than nothing.

"What's going on Dean?" Sam asked cautiously, fearing for a moment that he had found something out about Dad that wasn't going to make Sam a very happy person.

To his relief, and in some ways horror, Dean said nothing in response; he just tossed a newspaper at Sam and continued to look rather sullen, though in a more restricted way. In a way that wiped away the sorrow and replaced it with resolution, and resolution was something Sam was so used to seeing on his brother's face that he didn't even notice.

The momentary relief Sam had felt earlier was quickly wiped from his own proverbial slate of emotions and shock was written in its place. The title on the front of the paper read simply: "Another tragedy strikes the McLandon family." As Sam read on he found out that the latest death of the family belonged to the father, and at that he dropped the paper. A pang of raw emotion washed over him and he sat on the bed, shocked. Those kids had lost both of their parents in a matter of days. It wasn't only bad, it was wrong. Sam took his chances and looked up at Dean, but his older brother was just staring out the window, and for a moment the younger brother wondered what was going through Dean's mind. He looked troubled to say the least, but Sam knew that asking would be useless.

"Wow," Sam stated quietly, and it was just enough to achieve the desired effect: breaking his brother out of his reverie.

"We've got to go see Carl. I was going to take the hide-and-go-catch-red-handed approach on this one, but I'm not letting it go any further. We're leaving. Now." Dean said, grabbing his keys and his coffee and heading out the door, trusting, but in all honesty not really caring, if Sam was following him.

Those kids had lost their parents. Dean knew what it was like to lose one and not know where the other was, but to lose both, to a cause thatDean knew he and Samcould have stopped?He wouldn't settle for it. It wasn't in him, he was going to find and kill the bastard that did this. That damn dog was going back to Hell where it belonged. Dean marched straight to his Impala and unlocked the doors, glad to see his baby brother opening the door to the passenger seat and sitting without a word. Sam had thought about questioning his brother, or at least making him wait until some of the pure rage was out of his system, but in the end Sam just agreed with him. This couldn't go on any longer, and as Carl was their prime suspect number one, this had to be done. Not to mention that arguing with Dean in this state was about as useful as trying to make a fish fly.

Delilah's eyes had never been so wet in her life. She had tried so hard to cling to her dad, to keep him happy and in her life, and yet all her trying couldn't keep him with her. The same awful thing that had happened to her mommy had now happened to her dad, and for the life of her the 8 year old could not understand why. What had she done to deserve this? It didn't make sense. She sobbed in the embrace of her older brother for a moment longer before she looked up at her JanJan through watery eyes and let out a trembling "How come, JanJan? Why daddy?"

Janus sighed and shook his head, holding Delilah closer and stroking her hair. There was a rustle in the kitchen where their aunt was making them lunch, but other than that and Delilah's occasional sobs, the house was completely silent.

"I can't explain it Dee, I wish I could though," he answered, pulling a bit of her shining black hair away from her wet cheeks.

Delilah wondered why Janus wasn't crying too. He hadn't shed a single tear, and he hadn't cried when whatever animal it was had killed their mom either. Delilah just figured he was trying to be the strong one. That made perfect sense, didn't it? It was the only explanation in her mind. Their aunt re-entered the living room with sandwiches and milk so Delilah and Janus untangled themselves. Janus took his food and stood up. "I'm eating in my room."

As he walked up the stairs and into his room he was having troubles escaping the guilt. He had never meant for Delilah to have to hurt like this, he had only wanted to get revenge. It wasn't fair, what their father had been doing. It wasn't fair because his father had been seeing other women, and that had pained Janus in a way words couldn't describe. It wasn't fair because the pain had only intensified when he found out that his mother had known, and had done nothing about it. It was then that Janus had started reading about stuff, and not long after he started believing that if he tried hard enough and had the right things, he could do it. So he had set out to make his father feel the pain that his father had caused him, and once he had done that, he didn't want to have to deal with his father anymore. And he had succeeded in both, but he was beginning to wonder what the price of it all was.

"Damn it," Dean said, pounding his fist into the telephone pole that they were parked by. It hurt a little and it was going to leave one hell of a bruise tomorrow, but he didn't care.

"Dean, this isn't over. We'll start searching," Sam replied in a futile attempt to get his brother's head back on straight.

"Have you seen how many friggin' psychics there are in this town?" Dean snapped back, running his hands through his hair, "Someone else just might die by the time we find him Sam, and that family is NOT losing anyone else, do you hear me?"

Sam nodded and watched as his brother went back to brooding.

"Relocated," Dean fumed, "I'd like to relocate my foot up his ass."

Sam couldn't help but smirk, even if it only lasted a second. Dean's wit never ceased to shine through whether it was optional or not. "Well, we'd better get going," Sam said a moment later.

Though he didn't want to admit it, they could be searching all day long, and getting started would probably be vital at this point in time. Then Dean looked up at Sam, and the look that his older brother gave him nearly made him squirm. It was searching, almost pleading, and very un-Dean like. They really needed to find this guy, and fast. Nodding dejectedly when no answer to his unspoken question came, Dean slipped into the front seat. He reached into his jacket for the keys, but pulled out a small square of cardstock instead. Leaning back in his seat he sighed once more, but for a different reason.

"Dean, let's go. You said there were a lot of psychics around here," Sam insisted when Dean hadn't already started the car. He was getting serious mixed signals right now.

Dean shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. "We don't need to."

Sam quickly became confused as Dean punched a series of numbers rapidly into his cell. Dean waited impatiently as the ringing noise came through on his end of the line. The moment someone picked up Dean's hope shot higher, perhaps, than it should have.

"This is Carl the psychic. How may I help you?"

"Hey man, it's Dean."

"Excuse me, but who?"

"The guy with the girlfriend whose parakeet died, remember? Anyway, I went to your building to make an appointment with you face to face and they said you had been relocated or something? I was bringing my brother along because he's interested too," Dean gave Carl a moment to process all of this and he took the time to glare at Sam for snorting at his "girlfriend with a dead parakeet" statement, "If you could just tell me where you're at now…"

"Oh! I remember you. Well, as it turns out, I'm taking a break from my paying job, something of a sabbatical if you will. If you try back in about a month we can set something up," came the feeble reply from Carl.

It could have been that his voice was feeble from information overload, but it also could have been the stress of hiding something. Dean, being on the edgy side and already fed up with dead ends, leaned toward the latter.

"Look, my brother and I, we think that you could have something to do with what's going on with the McLandons, so you have two options here. Door one says you can tell us where you are and we can deal with this, just us, but if you would prefer, door two gives you the option of us calling the state police to find out where you are whether you like it or not."

Sam smiled slightly at the sudden authority in his brother's voice, and Dean had to admit that it felt good to vent. He wasn't going to have any more dead ends. They were solving this now.

Dean's sudden outburst seemed to take Carl by surprise. "Sir, I'm not sure where you are getting these ideas from, but there is no need to get the police involved," the psychic replied, clearly offended.

Dean, however, didn't give a rat's ass if Carl was offended. "Then I think the solution is pretty obvious, don't you?"

"Fine, if you must."

Dean smirked in victory and wrote down the address. Finally they were going to get some answers. Dean's stubbornness was going to pay off again, he was sure of it.


	6. Chapter 6

Janus McLandon was quite sure that he had never worked harder in the 13 years he had been alive. The first few months had been easy, but now it was getting harder, he was being fought against; it was trying to pull him into the darkness. Nevertheless he continued to work non-stop, and his sleep was slowly dwindling down to nothing. His energy was seriously lacking, and he couldn't say much for the deep, dark circles under his eyes, either. Delilah was starting to worry about her big brother.

Tentatively she knocked on his door, hoping desperately for an acceptance, however hostile or half-hearted, to her silent request. After all, her JanJan was all she had now. There was nothing but a grunt from inside the room, but Delilah was thankful without doubt. She snuck in so silently that she was surprised Janus noticed she had entered. Delilah was disappointed to find her brother's nose buried in those freaky books again. The pictures were more of symbols than anything, and she was almost certain she had spotted something in a different language once. Given that she was only 8 and she had a limited literary ability, but she knew what the alphabet looked like and some of that stuff looked nothing like anything A-Z.

"Janusssss," she whined to get his full attention, "I don't like it when you read those books, they don't make sense, the pictures scare me, and, and what do you need them for anyway?"

Janus looked up and shook his head. He was sick of this, sick of her whining and sick of hiding from her. He was going to have to tell her, he just wasn't sure how to. His 13 year old mind decided the best way to do this was to just tell her flat out. She needed to know. Delilah caught something in her brother's eyes and it made her falter.

"Janus…talk to me JanJan," she whimpered pathetically.

"Dee, we need to talk," he replied, sighing heavily.

Running a hand through his blonde hair, he looked at his baby sister with a large amount of apprehension. Delilah, on the other hand, had never liked the words 'we need to talk', but the tone of Janus' voice made her fear them more than she ever had.

"What is it?" she asked shakily.

Janus pulled his little sister up onto his lap despite her resistance. Then he started in on an explanation. "Do you remember when Pepper died?" he began slowly, "And how mom went to that psychic downtown to 'contact the spirit or whatever? Well, that was about the time I started reading these books," he gestured to the pile of books that Delilah had never approved of.

"I wanted to help Mom, yanno? So I found out that I could bring Pepper back, but it was going to take a lot of work, and then when I finally had him back, he just started killing things and I couldn't get it under full control until two months ago. Then Dad; he did some bad things and I wanted him to hurt for it," there was another pause, because he knew that this was a lot to take. It was a lot to explain.

"So…." _Pause. _"I decided to take the thing that was most important to him, even if it would hurt us too. Then he just kept being naughty and I got sick of it, and I got sick of him," it was all coming out in one anger-fuelled rush now, "so I set Pepper on him as well. But now I think I'm losing control. It's not listening to me anymore. It's going after anything it sees as a threat. So you've got to go Dee, 'cause I've got to get back to work, but I had to tell you because you deserve to know." He finished with a sigh and finally brought himself to look at his baby sister.

The reaction he received was not what he had expected, or what he had been hoping for. Delilah started at her brother, her hero, her JanJan in wide-eyed horror. He was lying, he had to be. It was a joke, a sick and wrong joke, but it had to be a joke. Any moment now Janus was going to holler "GOTCHA" and it would be over. Yet something in that serious and sad look was enough for even the 8 year old to comprehend. He was serious. It was all the proof she needed. Her brother was a killer. Not only that, he was the reason both of her parents were dead. No matter how much she loved her brother she couldn't forgive him for this.

She shook her head a few times before hopping off Janus' lap and backing away disgustedly. She opened her mouth to speak but the words balled up in her throat and created a lump that made her eyes water. She closed her mouth, swallowed hard, and tried again. This time the words made it out.

"Janus! You didn't, you couldn't have, I can't believe that you- JANUS!" Her voice was high-pitched and hysterical, but it was also firm and shaking with as much anger as her exhausted little body could manage.

"Dee, come on, you have to understand, it was for us Dee, they didn't deserve to be our parents," Janus tried to explain, but as the words spilled out of his mouth they started making less and less sense in his brain. But he was too far gone now, and he had to stand by what he had started. He had to finish it.

Delilah shook her head as the ever familiar tears of late once again sprung to her eyes. She started backing away again. "No!" she shouted, and Janus was taken aback by how fierce she sounded. "No Janus, you weren't thinking! I'm gonna-"she stopped short. The words "tell on you" hung on her lips when she realized there was no one to tell.

He had killed their parents. If she told Aunt Laura she would never believe them, all hope was gone. Delilah broke down in tears and Janus instantly felt horrible. He reached out to touch his younger sister in comfort but she wriggled out of his reach and looked up at him with those brilliant blue eyes that, over the years, he had seen convey emotion after emotion. Happiness, glee, joking, hurt, sadness, and now they were empty. If there was any emotion left in the void of blue, Janus could only identify it as hate. Hate for everything he had done, and here he thought he had been protecting them. His plan wasn't working. But it had to be, because he had worked so hard.

"Don't touch me," Delilah growled, and Janus swallowed. He had never seen her like this.

Then Delilah did the only thing and 8 year old with no where to go could do, she ran. She ran out of Janus' room and down the hall, down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the living room. On her way out of the living room she ran into the coffee table and toppled to the floor with the entire contents of the table piling on top of her. She pushed the various books, papers, and coasters off of her small body and moved her hand to her mouth to remove a small piece of cardstock out of it. On the paper were the words "Dean Berkowitz" and a series of numbers that Delilah assumed belonged to a phone.

An image shot into her mind of the two policemen. One of them, the shorter one she thought, had handed her dad a card. Hope rose in her crushed heart, so she grasped the card as though it were a piece of pure gold and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed the phone off the counter and dialed the numbers as fast as she could.

"So what exactly did you use to contact the McLandon's dog?" Dead demanded of Carl.

Carl sighed tiredly and pulled a book off of the shelves of his apartment in the heart of Knoxville and moved back to where the boys were. He flipped through the pages and stopped suddenly.

"This was it," he confirmed pointing to the page.

Sam took the book before Dean could and looked the pages over. Some of it was in Latin, but most of it was in English. Sam opened his mouth to explain it and verify that it looked official enough. Not to mention that ever since they walked into the apartment Carl had given him every reason to believe that he was real deal, and an impression that he was a very nice guy. Why he would be doing such an awful thing as what both brothers thought he was doing was beyond Sam. When the words of explanation and confirmation were on the edge of his tongue, Dean's cell phone rang.

Jumping slightly due to the sudden change from silence, Dean fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Hello?"

The response he got was a small girl's voice sounding very scared. "Mr. Policeman? You need to come here right now. JanJan is doing something with Pepper and he's the reason Mommy and Daddy are dead and I'm scared. Plleeaasseeee?" She said it all in one breath, the words tumbling one over another.

Anyone but Dean would have been completely lost, and would have hung up assuming it was a prank call, but he knew enough to pick up on the little things. Things like the girl's voice and her use of the words "JanJan" and "Pepper" which was clearly a dog's name.

"Alright, we'll be right over," was all he said before hanging up, putting his phone away and standing up as though Sam knew everything he did.

It was only when he caught sight of the look on his baby brother's face that he realized that wasn't true. Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other and the motioned for Sam to get up. "Sam, we've got to go."

When Sam gave him a very skeptical look and nodded towards Carl, Dean added firmly, "Now."

Sam sighed resignedly and looked at Carl, "Sorry, but apparently we've got to go. We'll finish this later."

Carl nodded but it was obvious from the look on his face that he would have no objections if he never saw Sam or Dean again. As the brothers climbed into the Impala, Sam finally piped up.

"God Dean, what was that about? We were getting somewhere."

Dean shook his head and started the engine. "We were getting nowhere." Then he explained the phone call to Sam. How it was Janus who had been controlling the dog, and how Delilah was scared out of her mind that her own brother, the one person she should have been able to count on for protection, was going to set the thing on her next. Or at least, he explained how convinced Delilah had been of that fact. And the whole time he talked, he sounded completely disgusted. He was disgusted.

"…And damn it Sam, I'm not going to let anyone else in that family die. I knew that Janus kid was hiding something."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean gripped the steering wheel harder and pressed on the gas pedal with more pressure as the engine of the Impala roared and their speed picked up. They pulled up at the curb of the farmhouse in record time; Dean cut the engine quickly, and practically flew from the car to the trunk. He got to the weapons but then stopped, looking at them, frustration apparent in his eyes. How the hell were they supposed to kill this thing?

"Sam!" he shouted, "What're we gonna use on this?"

Sam rushed to the trunk and looked at the weapons. What had he read about it? Just shoot it. Kill it again. "Hand guns," he nodded, pulling one out of the trunk and putting in the back waistband of his jeans.

Dean wasn't buying it. "Hand guns?"

Sam nodded again, more vehemently this time. "Kill it again, it'll die."

"You're sure?" Dean asked warily, but placed his hand gun in the same place Sam had anyway. He knew he was wasting precious time.

"Pretty darn," Sam responded. At least he thought he was sure.

He had to be, because just then a shriek could be heard from insidethe house, followed by a loud crash. The Winchester brothers headed for the house at a sprint and flung open the door. There was no one on the ground floor, so they headed up the stairs, guns now out of their waistbands and at the ready. Classic hunter stance. Suddenly there was an unmistakable screech, like the noise a chair makes when being pushed back too hard and too fast on a wooden floor. The sound came from the right so Dean stepped forward and shoved the door open.

"JanJan?" came Delilah's voice, quavering.

Then Dean saw it. The dog, looking every bit his part of being dug up from the grave, was bearing down on Delilah.

"N-no, please. G-good doggy."

Before she could finish the sentence that Sam recognized all to well from his vision, Dean stepped into the room, aimed, and sent a bullet right into the dog's side. It was enough to puncture a lung, and it should have been enough to kill him, but the dog did not crumple to the ground like Dean expected. Wide-eyed but still level headed enough to remember his purpose; he motioned for Delilah to get behind him. The zombie-dog was whimpering and attending to its wound, which gave Delilah the time to do as Dean said.

"T-thank you mister," she replied shakily.

"Call me Dean, Kid, I've never been much of a 'mister'," he nodded with a faint smile to reassure her.

A noise from the room instantly snapped Dean's attention back to the dog, which was now getting back on its feet and bearingits teeth at Dean. A menacing growl escaped Pepper's mouth and it was now sauntering towards both brothers and Delilah. Dean pulled the trigger and sunk another bullet into the dog's head this time. Once again, it just whimpered before becoming steely and pissed off again.

"Sam!" Dean demanded of his baby brother, "Just kill it again?" he paused, looking in disbelief at Sam, "It'll die? That did _not_ go as planned!"

Sam gulped as the three of them scooted down the hallway. Just when Sam was about to throw a new suggestion on the table, Delilah spoke up.

"Uh…JanJan has some weird b-books in his room, m-maybe those would help?" she offered, still shaking.

Sam nodded and Dean followed them, waiting for the zombie dog to attack again. They made it into the room and slammed the door shut behind them. With the door acting as a barricade, it would at least buy them a little time. When they turned around to find the books, they found Janus muttering viciously, in what sounded remarkably like Latin to Sam, with his eyes trained intently on the book in his hands. How a 13 year old knew Latin that well was a mystery to Sam, but he wasn't about to put thought into it now. He just lowered his gun despite a grunt of disapproval from Dean and took a step in the direction of Janus, who only just realized he was no longer alone.

"Janus, put the book down."

Janus just glared briefly at Sam and then continued to read. Sam tried to take the book by force, but that only ended up with Janus giving both him and Dean Death stares. The next thing they knew there were footsteps and growls growing louder and louder. But before anything else happened, Delilah set her jaw, charged at her brother, and took the book while he looked on, purely shocked. Nobody knew what they expected now, after all, they hadn't been expecting the last turn of events,but it wasn't what happened.

It all happened simultaneously. Delilah broke down in tears with the book tight in her grasp; Janus fell to the ground and covered his face in his hands, just now realizing what a horrible thing he had done, and the zombie dog busted through the door. Dean took aim and shot again. Delilah sobbed harder and moved her hands to her ears, scrunching her eyes shut at the loud _BAM_ that emitted from Dean's gun as another bullet got sent through the dog's head.

"Sam…" Dean said, backing away and picking up a sobbing Delilah so that he could move her to a safer position and so that the book would fall out of her lap and onto the floor, within reach of Sam.

"I know! I'm looking," Sam growled back, diving for the book, picking it up,flipping through the pages, and looking for whatever it was that would send this thing back to where it came from.

Meanwhile the dog recovered from Dean's 3rd shot and was bearing down on him once more.

"Shit…Sam, come on, I'm not seeing a huge time window here, Pepper is pissed." As soon as the words left his mouth, the zombie dog lunged, sinking it's teeth into Dean's leg.

The groan of pain from his older brother, his hero, made Sam flip through the pages faster. Dean's sudden outburst also made Delilah's eyes grow wide and her hands go from her ears to her mouth.

"Dean!" she shouted with all her little girl might, voicing the exact sentiment on Sam's mind, "Oh gosh! Are you okay?"

By this time Dean had shot the dog again and his leg was teeth-free, but bleeding and most certainly not pain-free. He pressed on the wound and nodded to reassure Delilah once more before limping to the back of the room and continuing to tend to his wound.

"Sam, I'm not kidding, time is run-," Dean started but was cut off by Sam spouting out phrase after phrase in Latin.

A smirk crossed the elder Winchester's face accompanied by a truly Dean Statement. "That's my boy."

The zombie dog shook and yelped in his own pain as Sam continued to ramble on in Latin. After a moment, Pepper finally located the source of its most recent and most excruciating pain. With this new knowledge, the deformed zombie dog lunged for Sam this time, latching onto his arm. Half out of shock and half out of blinding pain, Sam dropped the book and fell to the ground. He drew his knees to his chest and released his right leg with force, sending his foot into the dog's chest and the zombie dog across the room.

Sam scrambled to the book ignoring his arm, flipped through the pages until he found the right one and started right where he left off. Meanwhile, Pepper recovered and was back on the prowl. This time he was headed for Delilah. Dean assumed the reasoning behind this was because she was the only one of the three of them who hadn't kicked its ass in some form or another and Janus was the one who had been controlling it in the first place. Dean abandoned all attempts at coddling his leg back to health and limped his way to Delilah who was too stunned to do anything but wail more loudly. Dean sufficiently shielded Delilah but got himself a nice claw mark acrosshis leftarm in the process. Another groan of pain emitted from his mouth, but just then the zombie dog yelped again and leapt back.

Sam shut the book and nodded to Dean. Dean raised the gun, aimed, and sunk a final bullet into Pepper's skull. He watched as the dog fell towards the floor and then _POOF_ turned to dust, just like that. Delilah's form shook with renewed sobs and Janus' form shook with shame, but both Sam and Dean's forms visibly relaxed. All that was left was the clean up, the licking of wounds, and the good-byes. The worst was over now. Sam ripped a piece of cloth off his shirt and wrapped it around his arm wound, then turned to Dean who was pushing himself up despite the pain and limping toward Janus. Sam watched with curiosity as Dean put a hand on Janus' shoulder and the boy looked up.

"What you did was wrong, you know that? You put your sister in danger, and she really looks up to you," Dean started,"Looked up to you, I should say, I don't know how she feels now. Being a big brother is a big responsibility, I know, but you've got to take it seriously, and not put Delilah in harms way like that. Ever again. I want you to promise me that you will get rid of all those books. Every last one, and never deal with Dark Magic again. Can you promise me that?"

Sam was shocked at Dean's sudden father-like take on things, but proud nonetheless. Janus nodded meekly; Sam knew that wouldn't be good enough for Dean.

"Can you promise me that?" Dean repeated.

"I promise," Janus replied as firmly as he could.

Now that Dean was satisfied he slipped to the floor, beads of sweat threatening to slip down his forehead from endurance. This had been one hell of a hunt, and one that Dean was sure he wouldn't forget any time soon.

Janus did throw all the books away, the boys made sure of that. Janus and Delilah's aunt had taken care of Sam and Dean's wounds, accepting their story of a wild animal attack wholeheartedly. (How could she not?) Delilah had begged and begged Sam and Dean to take her with them, but after an extremely long round of " 'Pleeassee' and 'no'" she finally gave up and walked back into the embrace of her aunt looking rather downhearted.

Both Sam and Dean chuckled a little, wished Janus, Delilah, and Laura the best and headed for the Impala.

"Well Dean, I've got to say; that was some speech you gave Janus back there." Same noted, and Dean stopped in front of the car and smirked that Dean Smirk.

"Well, he needed to know the role he plays. Big Brother isn't an easy gig. Lord only knows the amount of crap you've made me put up with," he nodded jokinglybefore getting into the driver's seat of his classic baby, "When you were a kid, you never shut up. It was 'Dean, can I do this,' or 'Dean, I want this for supper'. I'm telling you man, you were one demanding little sonofa."

"Gee Dean; is it taking a toll on you?" Sam joked, but Dean didn't appreciate it one bit.

He shook his head and looked Sam in the eye. "Never," he stated simply, honestly.

That was that. Sam didn't press and Dean didn't offer. They just drove off onto the freeway of good ole' Knoxville, another one of Dean's classic rock mix tapes filling the speakers of the car. Another day, another hunt, and another small insight into the long and unwinding mystery of the Winchester boys.


End file.
